The Three Card Draw, Chapter 1, pgs 2 & 3

The next morning Molly had a migraine ghost. That’s what she called her migraine hangover. She saw her migraines as a living thing, and felt their presence even after they had gone. The agenda for the day involved a lot of number crunching and interest percentage calculations, but all that could wait while she exorcised her migraine ghost. She decided to spend the morning at her favorite coffee shop--- locally owned of course. They sold croissants that literally melt in your mouth. Yes, bread and tea would settle her stomach from the migraine and anxiety from--- why was she so anxious? Comfort food and her cards, her medicine of choice.

She tugged on her favorite pair of jeans with a thick mahogany leather belt. It was still cold out, so she decided on a long sleeve tee under her usual graphic tee (today she wore Tony the Tiger). Her gray Chuck Taylor’s completed the look, not that Molly was much into looks recently. She kept her ash blond hair cropped in a super short pixie cut. As for make-up, she never did much more than a bit of mascara (only because her lashes were blond) and some tinted lip balm. She threw on her UNCG hoodie with the paint stain on the elbow, checked her bag for what she needed, locked the door behind her and headed to Tate Street on foot.

Even though she was still somewhat groggy, she kept up a quick pace, her hands balled tightly into the front pocket of her favorite hoodie. When she exhaled, her breath puffed out like crystalline pillows in the cold air. The tip of her nose felt the sting of cold and threatened to drip if the trip lasted much longer. She could already imagine holding the warm cup of tea in both hands, the cold melting away from each aching joint. She hurried up the familiar walk. It wasn’t a long trek from her rental to the tiny coffee house. Her nose posed once again the threat of dripping as she jolted her hand out of her pocket. The warmth of the back of her hand felt soothing on the tender freezing skin. It didn’t surprise her that her hand was warm, after all it had been in the hoodie pocket. But her feet were freezing in wool socks and sneakers.

The warm humid air of the cafe pricked her skin with tiny welcome kisses. She tugged the hood of her sweatshirt off of her head.

“Morning, Molly.”

“Hey, Ben.”

Ben had worked at her favorite study spot for as long as Molly could remember. His hair was always a mess and he wore hipster glasses. “The usual? Green tea with mint and honey?”

“Uh, no, I think I’d like the orange spice and a croissant today. Room for milk. Can you heat the croissant?” She fumbled through her bag looking for her wallet.

“Gladly. Have a seat and I will bring it over. We’re slow today.”

“Thanks,” she half mumbled as she dropped some change into the tip jar next to a small plaque stating, “Be the change...” Molly thought it was witty, if a bit cheesy.

He sat at a small corner table. He had a perfect view from where he sat sipping his coffee and pretending to read on his E-reader. It was darker in this corner, and that is exactly what the man needed. He was not ready for her to notice him, not yet. He had been coming here for weeks, learning her patterns. He knew exactly when she would arrive, how long she would stay and what she ordered. As he predicted, she was wearing that damn ugly sweatshirt. It didn’t really matter. He knew what she was, even if she didn’t, and when the time was right he would make his move.

Molly spent at least an hour taking notes on The Tower card. She had three different books she was burrowing through. Each one had some similarity to the others, but there were still details she felt were missing. Her head started to get fuzzy with it all, so she decided to clear her mind a bit, maybe head home to paint some. She felt weird, like someone was watching her. She drifted her eyes lazily around the coffee shop, trying not to look suspicious. Out of her peripheral, she noticed movement. She turned towards the counter and saw Ben whipping up some sort of latte. She decided she was just being paranoid and packed up her cards. She carried her tea cup and plate back to counter. She was just about to leave when Ben told her to wait.

“I thought you might like this. The lady from the shop on the corner brought it by. Seemed like your kind of deal.” He handed her a flyer on pale pink paper.

“Okay, thanks. See you tomorrow.” Molly folded the flyer and stuck it in the back pocket of her jeans, and slid her hood back over her head.

When Molly got back to her one room studio apartment, she dropped her bag on the small table that she used for studying, drawing, paying bills, and very rarely- eating. She plopped down on her futon and kicked off her Chucks. She stared at her easel. She should be painting, or at least sketching.